killer past

opening

date: December 24, 2057

"It's officially been over thirty years since the first murder out of the six teens all murdered in the town of Woodsboro, California. The small town has the week off of school as a remembrance, the six murdered teens were as it follows: Sophie Blanche, Natalia Stevenson, Peter Moss, Finn Lance, Leia Collins, and Oliver Peyton. They were murdered on December twenty-fourth through January first." I turn off the television, cutting the Newscaster off. 

I get off my couch and walk towards the kitchen, grabbing a packet of popcorn from out of the pantry. I rip off the plastic casing and put the popcorn bag in the microwave, hitting the popcorn option. I turn to hear my phone ringing, I walk over to the couch and pick it up, noticing that it's an unknown number. I click on the accept call button, bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I ask, waiting for a response. The line is silent, except the faint sound of deep breathing. "Hello?" I repeat.

"Hello, who's this?" The voice on the other side of the line says. It's a men's voice, deep and raspy. I roll my eyes before walking towards the kitchen.

"I don't know, you called me." I can hear the tinge of annoyance in my voice, but I'm home alone on Christmas Eve, so I feel as though it's warranted.

"What's that sound?" The man asks, I'm assuming he is referring to the popcorn that is now popping viciously in the microwave.

"Popcorn. Any other questions?" I ask, this time I make my annoyance very obvious.

"Yes actually; Do you want to play a game, Riley?" My hearts drops for a second, how does this man know my name? Is this some dumb prank Eli is playing on me?

"No, I want you to leave me alone. Bye now." I hang up the phone, placing it in the counter. I run my fingers through my hair, soothing myself. I jump when I hear the microwave go off, my heart is racing. I take a few deep breathes and manage to calm myself down. I open the microwave, but at this point my appetite is pretty much gone. I turn off the kitchen lights and walk towards the living room, sitting back down on the couch. I grab the remote and click the power button, turning the television on. I flick through channels, looking for something to watch. Finally I land on A Nightmare On Elm Street, the movie is already almost over, right at Glen's death. I turn my head as I hear something in the kitchen. I get up and slowly walk towards the kitchen, I discover the sound the be my phone ringing yet again. I grab it and answer the call.

"Hello?" I ask, more angry than last time.

"Hang up on me and I swear to god I will decorate your Christmas tree with your fucking intestines. Do you understand?" The voice says, angry filling his voice.

"This isn't fucking funny. Who is this? If you don't tell me I swear to god I will call the police." I try to make my voice sound threatening, but it's to no avail.

"Go ahead, they won't be here in time to save you. They have to drive all the way to your house that's in the middle of nowhere, but I'm already here." With that I hear a knock on my front door, I feel vomit rising in my throat from anxiety. "Don't be shy, answer the door."

"Fuck you." I hang up the phone, dialing 911. As I go to hit the call button, the unknown number calls me again. I hastily reject the call and call 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" The operator asks, I'm so relieved to be in contact with someone who can help.

"Yes, I got some threatening calls, and now there is someone knocking on my door." I say, a tear rolling down my face.

"Are you in danger?" The operator asks, my eyebrows furrow in response.

"Yes, the person threatened to kill me." I answer, why would she asks a question like that? I wouldn't call 911 if I wasn't in danger.

"You do know that it is a felony to prank call the police, tonight is a very sensitive night for this town and I do not appreciate teens prank calling saying that they are going to get murdered." My jaw drops at the operator's words.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why the fuck would I lie about being in danger? I cannot fucking believe this." I say, more and more tears are rolling down my face.

"Okay ma'am I'm going to need you to calm down." The operator says, how the fuck am I supposed to calm down?

"Can you please just send someone here? I'm fucking terrified and I think I'm in serious danger." I am practically begging her.

"Fine, I will have an officer come to your house, but if this is a joke, you will be going to jail. Now, what is your address?" I open my mouth the respond, but my house goes pitch black, and the call ends. Which means my power must be out. That also means the killer is in the house, my heart stops as I run to the knife block, pulling out the largest knife.

I run upstairs and into my room, locking the door behind me. I look around my room for a place to hide. I run into my closet and shut the door, covering my mouth with my hand. The house is eerily silent, as if nothing is even wrong. I jump when I hear the loud banging on my bedroom door, I can feel myself start to hyperventilate. I clutch the knife we tight as possible before looking through the slits in the closet door. I watch as my door is broken down by someone in a black cloak, blue jeans, work boots and a white mask shaped like a ghost. The same exact costume from the murder spree in 2023. In the killer's hand is a long, sharp hunting knife. I watch as he scans the room, his mask finally facing the closet. The cloaked figure starts creeping towards the closet door. I raise my knife into the air as he gets closer and closer and I stand up. I watch as the gloved hand grabs the doorknob and starts to twist it. I kick the door open, sending the killer onto their back.

I run out of my bedroom and towards the stairs, not wanting to look back at the killer. My one objective is to get out of my house as soon as possible. I run but when I reach the edge of the stairs I feel a sharp pain in my back, the worst pain I've ever felt. Following the initial pain comes a warm liquid slipping down my back. It's blood, I've been stabbed. My legs give out and I fall all the way down the stairs, banging my head against the hardwood floor. I feel my forehead start to bleed, but I'm not ready to give up. I will not die here, not like this. Not for my brother or parents to find me stabbed to death. I see that the knife that was in my hand is now a few feet in front of me, but I can't get up. I reach my arms out in-front of me and start crawling towards the knife. I reach for it, and my hand is mere inches away, but I'm I feel the killer's knife thrust into my Achilles, blood splattering all over the floor. I scream in pain, tears crowding my vision. I grab the knife and turn, thrusting it into the shoulder of the assailant, but they just rip it out, stabbing me in the gut. I hear sirens in the distance, I just need to hold on for a few more minutes. I feel the knife rip through the layers of my skin and into my stomach, blood rises up my throat and I cough it out of my mouth.

"Please, stop." I try to scream it, but I can't. All that comes out is a pitiful mutter through my plentiful pain. I feel the knife slice through me again and again. I start counting, six stabs, seven, eight, nine. Plus the back and Achilles I've been stabbed eleven times, I don't know how I haven't lost consciousness yet. I can't move, my whole body is in so much pain and I can feel the puddle of blood surrounding me. Ghostface raises the knife into the air again, I hold my breath as I feel another stab wound. My vision goes blurry as I feel the knife cut through my collar bone and chest. I have to give up.